Eggnog Nocks
by Lazerwolf314
Summary: And Sam and Andy part with the help of a box. xXoneshotXx


_Little bit AU, little bit my imagination, little bit screwing with the timeline._

_Basically, the whole Sam/Andy breakup debacle takes place sometime before Christmas in this. (Boy, aren't I glad that didn't actually happen!)_

_For RB_ANON, with the prompt word of Eggnog._

_Enjoy!_

_._

The tear out paper diploma Nick had taken from the book Andy's mom had got her, stared at her accusingly from the kitchen counter.

It's front was still clean and white, the printed words crisp against the paper and Nick's quick scrawl of her name appearing almost formal (in the deranged sort of way) under the light.

She reached out slowly and twirled it beneath her fingers, contemplating the black and white as it swirled together.

Today, she really didn't feel like she had earned the diploma; in fact, she felt as though she needed to go back to the first chapter of the book and start all over again. However, she was lacking in her breakup buddy and alcohol, so going back over her wounds didn't seem even mildly appealing, despite the looming presence at her back.

Twirling on the island chair, Andy took the diploma with her and curled her fingers around it in defense as she stared at the plain brown box settled on the couch. A wave of sadness and longing rose in her; clawing at her throat and making tears prickle in her eyes.

She cursed herself (then Sam, of course).

Seven days until Christmas and Andy had thought today would be a good as day as any to clean out the depths of her closet in order to find the presents she had been stockpiling throughout the year.

(It was her own damn fault for forgetting the box was there, hidden on the top shelf).

Upon sighting the simple thing, she had momentarily gone blank as to who it was for.

(No she hadn't; she just refused to accept it).

Then it hit her. Moving in a numb state, she had pulled down the box, walked to the couch and collapsed onto it, the thing a mighty weight in her hands, even though it was only a few pounds.

Now she was seated at her kitchen island, as far away from the box as she could be without leaving the room, and using a tear out diploma as a shield.

God, she was pathetic.

(God, she missed him so damn much it physically hurt).

Inside the brown box were two things; a simple leather band engraved with the words _I love you_ (cheesy, she knew, but at the time, the simple words on the inside of something that could last forever meant a lot) and a photograph.

She couldn't remember exactly when the picture had been taken, but it was of them at the Penny, seated just on the outside of their friends and in mid conversation. When Traci had given it to her, she had been shocked; she had never realized just how obvious it could be to an outsider how much he had lit up when facing her.

It tore at her to when she saw the vivid detail of his back climbing into his truck and drive away.

When someone knocked at the door, she stared at it for a long moment, struggling valiantly to drive away the tears that were now in the danger zone of falling.

Once she thought that she at the very least appeared decent, Andy slid from the stool and approached the door in slippered feet.

She pulled it upon and was faced with a grinning Nick and a grocery bag in either hand.

"I brought the eggnog!" he exclaimed, holding one back aloft to display, of course, two jugs of eggnog. And a bottle of tequila nestled between them.

With that, the wall crumbled and she burst out laughing and pulled him inside.

…

By the time midnight had come and gone, Nick had made Andy dinner, successfully pulled a laugh from her on more than one occasion and the two of them had nearly finished off the second carton of eggnog.

The next morning, she found the box on the floor next to the couch where Nick was currently snoring away.

She watched it warily for a long moment, before snatching it up and returning it to the depths of her closet. Where it belonged.

Then she retreated to her kitchen, rubbed a finger over the diploma one last time and set about making some coffee.

.

_I accept any sort of feedback like pie and Christmas cookies; always._


End file.
